


i see a silver lining on your cloud

by r1ker



Category: Insidious (Movies)
Genre: M/M, there's pancakes and 90's law dramas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5412275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tucker figures he's going to keep on liking his and specs' little arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i see a silver lining on your cloud

**Author's Note:**

> i had pancakes for breakfast this morning and figured my favorite nerds should too
> 
> title from that one default song itunes says i've listened to 1300 times

Tucker is over him, one hand gripping the headboard and the other making a fist in the bed sheet tangled at Specs’ shoulder. He thrusts languidly and Specs can see it's taking all his strength to hold back, to not come, to make this last as long as his body will let him.

 

Specs is wound tight, hard as a rock and trembling with how rough all of this is. The backs of his legs are blossoming with bruises from where Tucker got a little too handy, murmuring apologies all the while and trying to lighten his touches. He licks his lips and lets out a shaky breath and tries feverishly not to give into the need to reach down and touch himself.

 

If he did, this would be over in a heartbeat.

 

Again Tucker’s head angles down to look at Specs, from where he was previously staring ahead at the painting above the headboard in an effort to maintain some composure. Before speaking he clears his throat. “Is it good?”

 

Specs nods feverishly and wholeheartedly agrees: it's the best he's had, maybe ever, but for some reason he sees what looks like fear lingering behind Tucker’s clouded eyes. He couldn’t imagine what he could be afraid of. Leaving that thought aside he moves in tandem with Tucker, back sliding against the ruined sheets, head tipped back to rest against the top of the pillow.

 

He stares at the ceiling mindlessly, giving himself over to the sensation of it all. There aren’t any more sounds in the room save for both of their labored breathing. Tucker’s is more stressed than Specs’ is, and it’s not from the rigorousness of it all. The heightened sensation, this time having all five senses occupied rather than just one or two from previous affairs, is enough to steal the breath from his lungs and the clarity from his line of sight.

 

Tucker’s breathing reaches a fever pitch and Specs wishes he’d have had a chance to capture permanently the look on his face just as he came. His eyes are open, clear as day like he’s come to a realization that this really is the best thing. Specs puts both of his trembling hands on his face, pulls him down for them both to meet eyes. It’s almost as if Specs is reassuring him that it’s okay to let go.

 

That’s what causes Specs to come shortly thereafter. He lets his nose rest behind Tucker’s earlobe, breathing harshly into the hair curling around the shell of his ear. His hands roam everywhere, Tucker’s cheeks to the downward slope of his shoulders.

 

“It’s okay,” Specs reassuring him, easing him down to where he’s lying half on top of Specs, too tired to obey the rule they’ve set for this little affair as far as affection. Tucker’s head is on Specs’ collarbone; hands sprawled on either side of him, chest heaving against Specs’ belly.

 

“I know I’m not supposed to be doing this,” Tucker mumbles into his skin. He snorts a laugh and works on untangling his hair with his fingers. What he’s referring to is the unspoken agreement the two of them have had for years – fucking allowed, proximity that could be construed as anything other than that is (is it really?) strictly _verboten_. “But you tired me out. Forgive me if it takes more than a few minutes to find the rest of me.” Specs figures the both of them are already in too deep so he ups the ante, puts both of his hands on Tucker’s back.

 

“No, I like you,” Specs says quietly mostly to himself. It doesn’t really matter whether Tucker hears it or not; for all he knows he likes Tucker as a person, not anything more than that. “I always have. Even when you lie on me, use me as a pillow.” Tucker nods, brings a hand up to rub at his eyes sleepily. No doubt he’s tired, he was tired going into this and used the last few remnants of his strength for what they just did.

 

Specs drops his voice down to a whisper. “Go to sleep.” Tucker reaches up one last time to kiss Specs and he accepts, one hand holding Tucker’s chin. They part but come back together, closing the short distance they could barely maintain before feeling the urge. Tucker’s head settled back down on Specs’ chest. It’s quiet save for the sound of their breathing.

 

Specs hasn’t felt this good in a while. Sure, a well-wrung-out orgasm will do that to someone but it’s the intimacy, the closeness. He likes the way Tucker’s hair feels against his skin, the gentle rasp of each breath making goosebumps rise on his chest. Fortunately Tucker sleeps like the dead, not even moving when Specs takes ahold of his hand and holds it between his.

 

“You’re nice like this,” Specs mumbles absentmindedly. He’s starting to feel like he wants to drift off to sleep, eyes growing heavy. “I don’t think you appreciate how nice it is when you’re asleep.” He pauses and tries to stifle the deep yawn that threatens to crack his jaw. With that he falls asleep and thankfully dreams of nothing.

 

Specs is so thankful he doesn’t dream; sleep is so quiet, so much better when nothing is coming back at you.. For nine hours it’s like staring against a black sheet, no flickers or sudden bursts. It’s perhaps one of the most disorienting things to happen to him in a long time. He’s so used to seeing things fly across his line of vision, even in sleep, ready for him to be theirs. He sees Elise – that’s pretty common, she’s always there for him at the end of the day in his dreams rather than in real life, where she should be, where she ought to be – and Tucker’s always by her side too.

 

The morning comes a bit faster than he’s ready for. It’s all there for him, blue light crawling in through blackout curtains. Tucker’s not snoring anymore – about two that morning Specs had woken up briefly to the deep rumble of it throughout the room – but breathing quietly with his face pressed into Specs’ chest. Specs looks down at his closed eyes, the twitch of his eyelids and the sweep of his eyelashes.

 

Specs puts one of his hands on Tucker’s cheek, feels the bristle of his beard and the warmth of his skin against his palm. He’ll swear later he felt and heard Tucker’s sigh. Specs watches the sun start to bloom brightly against the curtains, spilling across the room and onto the bed in great big bars. He reaches just over his head to the top of the headboard. His phone’s been neglected since about seven that evening and finds five text messages and eleven emails waiting for his review.

 

He thumbs through them with his phone on silent to avoid waking Tucker. It's mostly mundane stuff, ads and spam, but he gets back to a few clients who still had lingering concerns following their advising session with the two of them.

 

Tucker rustles awake on top of him and scoots up to rest his head on Specs’ shoulder to snoop at what’s on his phone. Mindlessly Specs rests his cheek on the top of Tucker’s head, finishes marking emails he doesn’t care about as ‘Read’ and locks it with a sigh.

 

“I’ve been awake all of thirty minutes and still those people won’t leave me alone,” he grumbles to Tucker, who’s rubbing away the sleep from his eyes with a lazy hand. In response, still too tired to form words properly, Tucker sighs against his collarbone. Specs tries his best to angle his head down to look at Tucker. He’s taken aback by how satisfied Tucker looks with himself, pupils dilated and blinking slowly. Of course, that could all be about how it’s eight in the morning and the two of them went to sleep only seven hours before. Who knows?

 

“It’s Saturday, if you get up and get dressed I’ll make you pancakes,” Specs proposes. He thinks that would rouse Tucker right off of the bed and straight into the closet but he lingers on Specs’ shoulder. With a groan he wiggles out from under Tucker and lets him roll on his back. Specs sits on his crooked knees and kisses his forehead. “I know what you’re thinking, Tucker. We’ve been doing this thing longer than you think we have.”

 

Tucker nods, lets Specs fall forward onto him with his face in Tucker’s throat. He clears his throat and as a distraction, stares at the hair curled around the nape of Specs’ neck. “I denied myself you for a long time, you know.” Specs nods – he kind of had a hunch since the Lambert job. “People always told me it would get in the way of what we did, we wouldn’t be able to do our jobs well if we only had eyes for each other and not the mission.”

 

“There was someone else in there that told me it was alright,” Tucker finishes after he catches Specs’ face fall. “Elise. She knew, and I really think she knew before either of us ever knew we had something for one another.” He lets out a slow breath, Specs sinking on top of him as his chest decompresses and relishes in touching the back of Specs’ head, stroking his hair. “One day she stopped me after you got out of the van. She turned to me and said, ‘He loves you. More than you’ll ever know. And that’s something you can’t let go for a second.’”

 

Specs nods like he understands that exchange fully. In a way he does – when has Elise ever been wrong about anything personal like that – and he agrees. He climbs off of Tucker and goes for his house shoes beneath the bed. One of his hands extends outward to grab ahold of Tucker’s if it is so proffered, and he’s surprised when one of Tucker’s curls warm around his.

 

“You can’t ever let go of me, Tucker, that would never happen,” Specs explains on their way into the kitchen. Lights and the stove are turned on as they go, along with the coffee pot. While the water and stove eye heats up, Specs hops on the counter. Tucker follows him and stands in the space Specs’ legs form as he settles on the countertop. Specs’ hands settle heavily on Tucker’s shoulders. “Who’d make you feel like how I make you feel?” Tucker shakes his head. Specs has got a point. There’s no one else Tucker can even fathom to take his place, for even a second.

 

Specs smiles and lets his head dip down. “Who’d make you pancakes at eight in the morning?” Tucker smirks right back, eyes crinkling at the corners. The coffee pot makes a few dreadful noises to signal it’s done with its job for the morning (or until Specs fires it up for round two, which usually happens mid-day). Two cups get poured and seasoned to each of their likings – Specs is astounded Tucker takes his black, Specs couldn’t go a second without dousing his with enough sugar and cream to where it’s not even constituted as coffee anymore.

 

They sip on coffee while gathering the things needed for pancakes. Specs is fortunate he went to the store before the two of them settled in for this little affair; there’s plenty of mix, syrup, and milk to keep them cranking out pancakes until work calls again. He settles for making each of them a healthy stack of five all-around even pancakes (a few get scrapped as what Tucker calls “Kids’ menu” pancakes and tossed into the trash as a consequence).

 

Gathering up fresh cups of coffee, the previous ones having been consumed in the pancake-making process, Tucker again settles between Specs’ legs in the living room, sitting on the floor while Specs sits behind him on the couch. Entertainment is scarce on a Saturday morning in their neck of the woods so it’s late-morning _Law & Order _for the both of them.

 

With a contented sigh Tucker’s shoulders press back to the edge of the couch, head tipping back with his mouth still full of pancakes. They work as a team to eat their pancakes, passing the bottle of syrup back and forth when they hit dry patches in their confections, and Tucker can’t help but notice that Specs always manages to keep one hand around his fork and the other at the crown of Tucker’s head.

 

He looks up at Specs, who’s squinting in an effort to watch TV with no glasses on, and thinks for all he’s worth that Elise was right. Elise was right about it all.


End file.
